


There's No Such Thing As Safe

by lesbianlifealert



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, bc clarke deserves it, not super graphic but a lil smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 16:20:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5792383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianlifealert/pseuds/lesbianlifealert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niylah stops Clarke from leaving the trade post that night and she doesn't get captured.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's No Such Thing As Safe

                She woke with a strangled gasp, jolted upright, terrified. Heart racing, blood pounding, barely able to breathe. They had cornered her in the woods and she was sure it was the end for her. Grounders had been hunting her for so long, a lifetime it felt like, that a part of her was almost relieved it was over. But then she woke up and reality hit her. Clarke was very much so alive. Her heart was pounding away in her chest and her head turned side to side, still scared that someone might jump out at her.

                There was a moment of heartbreak when she glanced at the girl sleeping next to her. _Niylah,_ Clarke thought. The grounder that had saved her ass from the bounty hunters. She hadn’t meant to sleep with her but then, maybe she did. She wasn’t so sure of anything these days. It was the first time anyone had touched her in months. Lexa would have thought it was weakness, this need to find comfort in the arms of another, and she thought now she might agree.

                Thinking about Lexa still stung, the betrayal a bitter taste in her mouth. The things she had had to do because of her weighed heavy on her. The pain never left, not even when she was asleep. She turned sadly from the peaceful blonde and quietly slid out of the furs. Her feet touched the floor, metal cool against the pads of her feet. The warmth was already ebbing away, and a wave of sadness hit her. She starting gathering her things. Pants first, then boots, her shredded shirt. Her jacket was around here somewhere. Searching in the dark was harder than she had expected, but she dare not light anything lest she wake the sleeping girl. Her shoulder throbbed when the fabric slid over it, and she recalled that Niylah had not had a chance to finish dressing the wound. Clarke would worry about it later. She scolded herself for getting caught up on it. She had had far worse wounds than this one. Swords and daggers slid back into their holsters, and she started to search for the supplies she had come for.

                Her boots scraped on the ground. She was being loud, much too loud. Niylah was stirring behind her, and she cursed herself for her carelessness. “Clarke…?” the grounder’s voice was raspy and confused, thick with sleep. Clarke’s shoulders sagged as she turned slightly. Addressing the blonde felt harder than it should be. They were nothing to each other after all. “I have to go. You should sleep,” Her voice wavered over the phrases, part of her wanted to stay. It was warm here and she had almost felt safe before the nightmares started up again. How many times had they woken her up in the middle of the night, gasping for someone to save her? Too many times.

                Niylah was sitting up, staring at her. She had yet to brush the sleep from her eyes, yet they held this quality that Clarke found hard to place. They reminded her of Lexa. Always questioning her choices, her motives. Searching for answers when Clarke had none to offer. She turned to leave. There was no way she could stay here. “You should stay, it’s not safe,” Niylah’s voice showed no sign of wavering. She was strong, that much was true. Clarke knew that if she wanted, the grounder could overpower her easily. There was no amount of feral anger that could stop her. But Niylah wasn’t like that. Niylah was soft and warm and comforting. She had saved her life. She wanted to stay, she really did. But there was no way she could.

                “It’s not any safer here than it is out there, is it?” Clarke’s voice didn’t waver this time. She had to be strong. _Love is weakness._ Her eyes narrowed. She didn’t love Niylah, but she did not want to allow herself the opportunity. There was too much at stake to get distracted. She couldn’t allow herself to get attached, to stay in one place for too long certainly meant capture and, inevitably, death.

                Niylah shifted on the bed, pushing the furs off and sliding out of the bed. She didn’t bother dressing herself, didn’t seem to care. If there was one thing Clarke had learned about grounders, it was that modesty was not a priority. And Clarke had already seen it all anyways. Touched it all, worshipped it all. Her eyes flashed over the grounders body, admiring the way her muscles flexed as she took another step forward, tentatively, as if walking too fast would scare Clarke off, like a frightened deer. “Many would like to claim the bounty placed on Wanheda, Clarke. But here, there is no one that wishes this. You are safe here, safer than anywhere else you could be.”

                Clarke scoffed, shaking her head. “Nowhere is safe for me,” She took a step backward, turning to go. She had to leave, get out of here before she changed her mind. She wanted to stay, she wanted to be safe, but she couldn’t. There was no way she could let herself get comfortable like that. Comfort meant letting her guard down, and letting her guard down meant death. She wasn’t ready to die yet, Niylah had to understand that.

                The grounder grabbed her wrist, pulling her back. Evidently, she did not understand. Clarke let herself turn, ready to fight her way out. Surely she would lose, but she thought perhaps she would not. She would get away, even if it meant killing the grounder girl who had comforted her so just hours before. Instead of a fight, she was met with lips, fiercely pressed against her own, and she was caught off guard. There was a second where she wanted to fight, to push her away, to run as fast she could. But she didn’t. She let Niylah take control for a moment, her wrist still gripped tightly and her back pushed against the cool wall of the dwelling. She pulled away to breath, panting. “If I stay, you’ll die,” It was a whisper, barely audible, but she knew that Niylah heard her. Niylah was not one to miss anything it seemed. The grounder shook her head. “Not everything has to end in death. They call you Wanheda because they are scared. But words are wind and I am not afraid to die.”

                For once, Clarke was speechless, and Niylah knew she had said something right. Emboldened, she brought her lips close again, nudging her nose against the other girl’s. “Fear death in the morning, I’ll protect you tonight.”

                Clarke wanted to retaliate, the suggestion that she could not protect herself biting at her pride, but she thought maybe for tonight she would let it go. Niylah was able, that much was true, and she felt some comfort in her arms. Her reply was simple and wordless. She pushed her lips against the grounder’s, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her body against hers. “You want me to stay?” Clarke’s mouth moved from her lips to her neck, biting down. Niylah groaned, “Yes.” It was one syllable, drawn out, and Clarke knew it was just as much in response to her mouth as it was to her question. Still, it felt like answer enough.

                There was no more talking after that, just the sounds of skin on skin. Clarke stayed on top this time. Niylah had caught her off guard too often and she felt if she surrendered any more control to the other girl she might lose herself in the process. There was something nice in letting someone else take control for a moment, but a moment might be enough to get her killed.

Hips were grinding against her leg and she stopped thinking. About anything. About everything. She pushed back, lips searching desperately for skin. Somewhere along the line she lost her clothes again, though how she wasn’t sure. It was all blending together, each moment moving seamlessly into the next. There was no thinking, just doing, and there was something about that that made her want to scream, but in a good way. Or maybe it was just Niylah, sliding her fingers inside her.

                Her lips fell open and she buried her face in Niylah’s neck, as if to hide the fact that whatever she was doing to her felt better than anything else had in a long time. Clarke had a feeling the grounder already knew. Her breathing picked up and it didn’t take long for her to finish, hips rocking uncontrollably, gasping like she had forgotten how to get air into her lungs.

                There was no waiting for her breathing to steady, Clarke was already kissing down the grounder’s torso, eager to return the favor from earlier that night. Niylah was all too grateful to accept, rolling her hips in anticipation. She moved quickly, tongue lashing over skin, leaving a trail of red marked skin behind her before settling between her thighs. Niylah was groaning, one had grasped tightly in the tangles of Clarke’s hair, pushing her face in deeper, the other gripping uselessly at the furs underneath them, as if to try to find some solid ground.

There was a moment where Clarke forgot she was being hunted. There was just her and Niylah and the warmth that surrounded the two of them. Clarke knew the grounder was close when she started rocking her hips roughly against her tongue, fingers clenching and tugging at her hair. Surely, there would be marks on her scalp after it was done. When she came, she thought Niylah’s hips might break her nose. The girl was strong, stronger than she had thought, but Clarke kept going until her body was limp beneath her.

                She didn’t kiss her after, though Niylah’s eyes said that she wanted to. Clarke thought if they got any closer she might break down, and there was no time for her to deal with the emotions that came with that. Not anymore. But she let the grounder’s fingers trace her skin, brushing the smoothness of her back. _No kill marks._ Niylah’s words echoed in her head. _My back’s not big enough_. Her own words echoed too. She knew Niylah must be thinking about it again, her fingers paused on the skin of her shoulder, as if expecting to meet with the scarred circles that was the custom of the clans. And when they didn’t, she thought the grounder might not know where to go. When it seemed that all was done, Clarke allowed herself to settle into her embrace. That much at least she could do

She woke the next morning, but not from a nightmare.


End file.
